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It happens, though, and so the ultimate question is what happens after a bad cop is discovered. What do the government officials elected or hired to oversee our police forces do when someone under their command goes astray, and becomes as much a menace as any criminal?

In southeast Michigan, turns out the answer too often is: not much.

In many of our communities, the system for dealing with bad cops is hobbled by spectacular loopholes and sloppiness. So it’s possible to hop from one police department to another, getting chance after chance.

A years-long investigation by Free Press reporters Jim Schaefer and Gina Kaufman documented case after case of problem cops kept on the street, even when the officers’ own records suggested they didn’t deserve to wear the blue.

It’s impossible to say how many problem cops are on the streets, shielded by a system that avoids the risk of arbitration in favor of expediency. But it’s clear that they are savaging southeast Michigan’s citizens, in both high-profile and under-the-radar incidents.

Take William Melendez, the Inkster police officer dubbed "Robocop." He'd run into trouble again and again while a member of the Detroit Police Department, even losing his police certification. But because a state regulatory agency agreed to renew his license, Melendez was able to hire on with Inkster, where his career presumably ended after viciously beating motorist Floyd Dent. With a series of blows, Melendez fractured Dent's his left orbital and broke four ribs. Dent got a $1.4 million settlement, a sum so large that financially struggling Inkster was require to levy a new tax to pay it.

CLOSE

Working for Inkster police, William Melendez beat and arrested motorist Floyd Dent in January 2015. Melendez can be seen in dash camera footage punching Dent 16 times. Melendez was charged, convicted and sent to prison. Inkster settled with Dent for nearly $1.4 million and imposed a tax on its residents to pay the cost.

Or cops like Jim Ture, given the opportunity to resign from Ferndale's department after having sex with a college student during a ride-along, was hired on in Highland Park and Inkster. There, he was disciplined for Tasering an apparent innocent bystander while investigating reports of gunfire coming from a van, as another officer grappled with the van's driver, who made a successful escape.

Who handles discipline?

Right now, we count mostly on local officials to handle police discipline. And for the most part, that’s the way it ought to be. Officers need to be accountable, first, to the people they are supposed to serve, and that means members of the community that has entrusted them with authority.

There’s no question that those jurisdictions must do better – at training officers, identifying those who are not upholding their oaths, and being honest about the way they deal with those officers.

The deals – cut with individual officers and sometimes inspired by labor agreements – to shield bad cops have to stop. Local police commissions, which mark citizen representation in police oversight, should be the vehicles for reforming the system in individual communities.

But ultimately, the state is responsible for overseeing those local officials, to ensure the safety and well-being of all Michiganders.

And that’s where a big part of the problem lies. And the state has far more resources at its disposal to handle these situations.

We need more from that level of government.

At minimum, the state should take a more active role in identifying rogue cops, and spreading the word to local officials, who can then avoid hiring them. The confidentiality that shrouds some cops’ dismissals can be breached by the state for the purpose of preventing rehiring, with a few changes in existing law.

There could also be requirements for local officials to report misconduct to a state agency, rather than sweeping a firing offense under the rug to simply “get rid” of a problem officer.

Training is another front for change at the state level. While it’s true that some cops are just bad actors because they lack the personality or temperament to be officers, it’s just as true that lack of training helps produce cops who step over the line inadvertently. With local departments strapped for resources, state training dollars could make a huge difference.

All of these measures could be particularly helpful to departments in impoverished communities, which are short on cash, and tend to pay officers less. They have less leeway to pick and choose among the best candidates, so they often end up with whatever is available. And too often, that means cops who’ve broken the rules – and some who’ve broken the law – in other communities.

So it’s no surprise, for instance, that bad cops have clustered in cities like Highland Park, which Schaefer and Kaufman found has hired 13 who’ve been fired from or forced out of other departments. Seven of the 13 are still employed by that department.

State's jurisdiction

Michigan could be even more aggressive than just notifying departments of rogue cops, too.

Schaefer and Kaufman found that Michigan's power to decertify police officers is limited, in comparison to other states, and that details of decertification are kept private. The state’s power to decertify officers is limited to cops convicted of a felony, or of multiple misdemeanors. In 25 other states, officers can be decertified for behavior that doesn’t rise to the level of a crime.

Some states are also tightening enforcement of the rules that govern bad cops. Arizona, for instance, embraced a more proactive approach to getting bad cops off the force by adding to the list of disqualifying actions.

Other states are creating agencies that are dedicated to enforcing training standards, and to decertifying officers who step out of line.

Any of these efforts would be a good start for Michigan, which has toyed with more certain oversight of local police agencies, but still falls far short of what’s possible.

Even when local labor and law enforcement officials push back, the state should assert its right, and obligation to track problem cops, making information about them available across jurisdictions, and ensure that a firing in one department for misconduct leads to the inability to get hired somewhere else.

Taking responsibility

Officers themselves can be part of the solution, too.

As long as police culture downplays serious lapses in judgment, and behavior that is or borders on criminal, in favor of protecting officers’ reputations or careers, problem cops will continue to don uniforms and badges, patrolling our streets in the guise of honorable officers.

That may be the most unfair dimension of this problem.

It’s unfair to the thousands of officers who work hard each day to be faithful to their oaths, and to the people they serve.

And it’s unfair to the communities that trust those officers, but shouldn’t have to worry that the bad cops among the good might be protected, rather than punished or pushed out.

Policing is one of the most important, but potentially dangerous, elements of local government.
It’s not just policy and enforcement, but culture that defines the line between a protecting force, and a brutalizing one.

While we’re pushing for local jurisdictions and state officials to turn their attention to bad cops, we need officers themselves to say more, and do more, to ensure that “serve and protect” holds meaning, and integrity, in our state.